Monday, 25 April 2011


prompt: riddle poem
Disclaimer: I have no idea where I am going with this.

there are little boys in suits
and little girls in
frills and they ask me very
difficult things in
strange tongues, they speak
quickly but with
uncertain fingers and hasty

eyelids and on most days i
don't understand
but on some days there is a
floating gold box
of questions, hopes, dreams

some days there is a fiery
woman with two
little pixie eyes in each of
the glances they
throw towards me, those
are the kinds of
days when i understand.

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